Aloha follows the acclaimed LP Some Echoes (2006) and acoustic EP Light Works (2007) with a powerful record that shows the band unbound by past influences and boldly stepping out of the shadows. Written initially through a private band blog, Home Acres is a project three years in the making.

Home Acres pushes the tempos and dials up the guitars, with the band's slow-burn intensity sometimes overflowing into huge moments. But even as the energy surges, Aloha casts an otherworldly glow, serving up ambience and attack with equal measure.

Album opener "Building a Fire" pairs gritty, persistent bass and drums with celestial, elusive melodies. An explosion of drums and a Peter Hook-high bass riff leads "Moonless March" into a minor-key catharsis. As the album hits its head-nodding, toe-tapping stride, you begin to realize that there's darkness lurking under Tony Cavallario's luminous melodies. In "White Wind," ethereal harmonies stoke the flames as an era burns to the ground. Everywhere things seem to be slipping away, fading from view, going in and out of focus. Fuzzed-out marimbas, reverb-soaked organs and floating strings decorate wistful, chiming guitar chords while Cale Parks pounds away, powering the proceedings from behind the kit.

Lyrically, Home Acres (named for a quaint old suburb of Rochester, NY) tries to sort through the wreckage of the Great Lakes region and a way of life. Left abandoned "waiting for a getaway car that never came" in the record's arena-rock-by-way-of-Silver Apples closer "Ruins," were left to think that maybe we ought to have dreamt bigger and fought the urge to disengage. A suggestion that Aloha has taken to heart for its biggest, brightest record to date.